


Sharing Isn't My Strong Suit

by barbarac110



Series: Arkham Asylum [2]
Category: Harley Quinn (Comics), Joker - Fandom, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Possessive Behavior, Pre-Suicide Squad (2016), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27964328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbarac110/pseuds/barbarac110
Summary: The Joker doesn't take Dr. Quinzel's absence too kindly. When he realizes where she was whisked away to, chaos ensues and upon her return, the two have some talking to do.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel
Series: Arkham Asylum [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119827
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fun little story I created about my two favorite dysfunctional clowns in the DCU. I upload the first few chapter but have more (along with other short stories) in the works
> 
> The Harley /Harleen Quinzel in this story was influenced by Margot Robbie in Suicide Squad. The Joker is a mix between all the cinematic Jokers but lots of Jared Leto Joker looks (minus the grill and some tattoos) This story was influenced by many other works and my own idea about dynamic relationship between these two characters. 
> 
> The story takes place before Harley's "rebirth" and there is no physical abuse between the two in their relationship (non-canon I know) if it were, it would be a two way street. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! (First time writing fanfic)

Guards led Joker into the recreation room without restraints. They couldn’t understand Dr. Quinzel’s decision of allowing one of the most, if not  _ the _ most, notorious murder and sociopopath Gotham has seen to have certain privileges, like having rec time or getting a haircut. They were instructed by Dr. Quinzel to bring him to the Rec room every three days for an hour. Her reasoning was that he had been behaving well and cooperating during their sessions, and social interaction would be beneficial to his progress. The guards didn’t agree with it but did what they were told and paid close attention to him in the room in case he did anything….funny. 

Joker entered the room, looking around with a bored and unamused expression. The Rec room was bland to say the least. Its once white walls had turned a slight grey color due to years of dirt, grim, and god knows what else patients had smeared on the walls. The carpet on the floor had a bluish hue and there were a few wooden tables with chairs scattered around the room where patients sat playing games. Other patients sat with glazed expressions clearly over drugged, completely unaware of what was going on around them. These were non-threatening patients who had rooms in the left wing of the asylum and did not require guards to accompany them to and from their daily routine. The more threatening patients, such as the Joker and other criminals with murderous tendencies, had rooms in the lower wing of the Asylum, away from the other patients since their violent tendencies could cause the other patients to become agitated if no guards or therapists were around. 

The Joker didn’t care much for the company of the patients in the Rec room. Not because they were mentally ill, but because they were too drugged up to be of use. His band of merry misfits often included people whose screws were a little loose but they were useful to him when he needed them to be. In their drugged up stupor, all they could do was blink emptily into space and drool.  _ Such a waste _ . 

He didn’t care much for the company of others in general. Frost was the exception but only when Joker needed him for something. Doctor Quinzel was slowly fitting into that lucrative category as well, but he justified it as him just being bored in the Asylum and her being a wonderful plaything for him. Not because he liked her company. No. Not at all. 

Joker walked around the Rec room in a bitter mood. His main source of entertainment had been MIA for two weeks now, and he was slowly getting more bored and agitated with the lack of mental stimulation he wanted. The last time he’d seen the good doctor was two Thursdays ago, and she gave no indication that she would be absent for such a long period of time. When the weekend went by and no guard came to collect him for their usual Monday therapy sessions, he wrote it off as her being sick or having a meeting. It still annoyed him but he didn’t think anything of it. But then no make up session was scheduled for Tuesday or Wednesday, and the rest of the week passed by with no sign of Dr. Quinzel. By the middle of last week, and no news was available to him, he was down right angry. He was seriously irked that she had disappeared, leaving him with nothing to reprieve him of his boredom and chaotic thoughts that seemed to only get louder and more frequent the longer the Doctor was gone. It also irked him that he was thinking about her so much. Thoughts of her plagued his mind at night when he was too restless to sleep and throughout the day as he waited for any indication that she was back. He found himself listening by the door to his cell for any sound that she was back and coming to see him. Particularly, he listened for the clicking sound of her heels, which would echo through the long hallway that led to his room whenever she made a short visit to him on non-therapy days. But the only thing he could hear when he listened by the door was silence in the halls and muted voices in his head. 

———————————————

There was a small TV towards the back of the Rec room and one patient was lounging on the couch that was positioned in front of the screen, channel surfing with a semi-bored expression. Joker rolled his eyes at the maundeness that permeated the room. 

_ What was she thinking? _ He thought, releasing an annoyed huff.  _ This place is more monotonous than my room.  _

He took a seat at an empty table that was a few feet away from the couch. Although he enjoyed the haircut that Dr. Quinzel set up for him due to good behavior, he could do without the Rec room. The environment offered him no mental reprieve or entertainment and if he had to choose between his room and the one he was currently in, he’d pick his room any given day. At least there he didn’t have to deal with the same humdrum environment he found himself in. He’d rather be out of the Arkham all together but certain kinks in his breakout plan still needed to be worked out. Especially ones involving Doctor Harleen Quinzel. He wasn’t ready to let her go yet. She provided some entertainment and occasionally, insight into ideas that he hadn’t thought of on his own. He didn’t know why he hadn’t killed her off yet like his other psychiatrists. She had a way of getting under his skin with her boring questions and clinical attitude when she needed to do her job. She got under his skin in a different way when she broke out of her doctor role and took on a whole new persona. That Harleen he liked. That Harleen was fun and a little dangerous. She took risks around him, antagonising him and talking back with attitude, things no one ever dared to do. And while at times he would snap back at her, he enjoyed bringing this side out of her. Doctor Quinzel, he found, was too formal, too stuck up, and too modeled by what society wanted her to be. Harleen.  _ Harley, _ he found himself calling her, was a whole different ball game. When Harley was breaking through Doctor Quinzel, his heart would beat a little harder and an exciting chill ran down his spine. His mind didn’t race as much and he didn’t mind talking to her or even her company. 

Joker sat at the table, trying to make time speed up by playing solitaire with a deck of cards he took from the games table. It held his attention for sometime but then his mind and eyes would wonder, seeking out some other source of stimulation. On the opposite side of the room sat two men who he recognized. Both were large in stature and had dark, neatly combed hair along with dark eyes. He knew they were part of Salvatore Maroni’s crime family for an encounter on the docks a few months ago. Maroni was able to avoid jail time by letting some of his men take the fall for some of his more heinous crimes that Harvey Dent tried him on. Of course, Maroni’s mob lawyer claimed the men acted of their own accord and were not liable for the brutal murders they conducted due to insanity. Maroni paid off some of the jurors on the stand, which ultimately led the two men to avoid jail time, and be committed to Arkham Asylum until the doctors found them rehabilitated and ready to re-enter society. Joker knew the truth though, and when one of the men met his eyes, Joker let out a wolfish grin causing him to cower in fear, returning to the game he was playing with his buddy. Joker let out a dark giggle, enjoying the reaction he got. He thought what Maroni did to those he murdered was cute. Maroni’s methods were child's play compared to what could do, what he had done. A guard by the men looked over at him suspiciously, causing Joker to flash an innocent grin. The guard looked away eventually, eyes shifting uneasy. This caused another giggle to escape Joker’s lips. This was too easy.

_ Maybe we should remind them what we can do,  _ one voice said wickedly but Joker ignored the suggestion. Normally he would give in just to relieve him of his boredom but killin either the guard of Maroni’s men would be too easy. 

“And now we are bringing you live coverage of the Gotham Services Gala, where celebrities and members of Gotham's high society have come together to raise funds for the different service sectors of our fair city!” A high pitched, overly enthusiastic voice permeated from the TV speakers, providing a sharp contrast to the low hum that hung around the Rec. 

“Finally! Something good!” exclaimed the patient who was sprawled out on the couch excitedly, sitting up on the cushions, and watching the screen intensely as footage of the Gala’s guests began to show. 

Joker turned glower at the patient for being so biosiorius at something so meaningless. He saw none other than Vicki Vale appear on the screen, providing the audience with information about the purpose of the gala and on some of the more lucrative guests attending the gala as they walked up the steps of Wayne Tower. Vale’s red hair had been styled in a fancy bun with a few tendril falling to frame her face. She wore a dark blue halter dress that clung to her body so tightly that it was like a second skin. Her make was heavy, giving the impression that she was trying a little  _ too hard _ to impress someone at the Gala. 

The patient, who had the name “Morris” written crudely on his shirt, was paying a little too much attention to Vale, based on the wheezing pants he was vocalizing and the way he shifted a bit uncomfortably on the couch. Joker sneered in disgust watching the man succumb to his desires. He looked around to see if any of the nurses were watching the patient act this way and would step in to stop him. One nurse was talking to other patients who were painting, while another nurse was busy talking to a guard. 

_ Fantastic.  _ Joker thought sarcastically, trying to ignore Morris. 

_ Such a lack of control. Look at him! Giving into such useless, primal behaviors!  _ A voice growled in mind and Joker found himself agreeing, making his own comments. He shuffled the deck of cards in his hands, trying to ignore the lewd man.

“Thanks Jack! And now we have Lt. James Gordon and Commissioner Gillian Loeb to say a few words. Commissioner, what issues do you think the Gala will help call attention on?” 

Vales shrill voice rang in his ears. The mention of Gordon caused him to turn slightly to the TV. 

_ Ohhh Gordy! Didn’t expect you to attend!  _ Joker thought letting out a slight giggle at the possible ways he could antagonize Gordon over this once he was free. He looked uncomfortable in the cheap three piece suit someone forced him in. 

_ Ugh! What a lack of style! _ Joker found himself looking down his own blandy and itchy Asylum issued clothing. 

_ You’re one to talk,  _ a snide voice in his head. 

Joker half-listened to the men giving their interview to Vale, trying to pick up on any news of the outside world and any mention of his name. Just because he was locked up, didn’t mean he was scheming and executing his power on Gotham’s unsuspecting citizens. He made his own snide remarks, mostly about the fallacies of Gotham high society, as the interview dragged on and moved on to other guests. Joker thought the words spilling out of the mouths of the Kane, Dumas, and Galavan families was pure bullshit. Their greed and need to portray a perfect, goodie two-shoes image didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. They bore him with their arbitrary and flashy lifestyle, with their need to “clean up Gotham.” This savior mentality drove his teeth on edge, not as much as when the caped crusader came to lecture him, but it still irked him severely. They were not better than most of the other criminals he knew; they had power and money but in a way that was “acceptable” to society. Joker had the same, if not more, power and money but his antics were considered “taboo” and “evil” and “uncivilized.” These country-club, cookie cutter yuppies were just a bunch of phonies who thought they had power and control when actually they crumbled whenever he entered the room. Still though, he enjoyed robbing them, especially when it benefited him. 

“Thanks for that Mr. Wayne! Many service providers are also coming in now. Some of the organizations they work for will receive donations made through the silent auction that is happening throughout the night. Oh look! Here comes Dr. Thomas Elliot. Dr. Elliot! How are you? How’s Gotham General doing? And _who is_ _your_ _date_?!” Vale's voice rang with genuine intrigue, signaling that she did not know the person accompanying Elliot. 

Joker rolled his eyes.  _ Who cares _ . He glanced at the clock on the wall.  _ Only a half hour more.  _

“Oh damn! She’s hot!” Morris’s voice exclaimed, ruining the Joker’s concentration on the card game and disrupting his thoughts. 

A low timbre laugh came through the TV speaker, followed by Thomas Ellitot’s deep toned voice that held an air of confidence and arrogance that could only be the product of years of fancy boarding school instruction. “I’m doing well, Viki. And the hospital is doing fine. We recently updated the Children’s wing and have a new oncology lab. This is my friend, Dr. Harleen Quinzel.” 

As soon as the name left Elliot’s, was picked up by the microphone, and transmitted through the TV speakers, Joker had sprung out of his chair, snarling “ _ WHAT!”  _ and marched his way to the TV to make sure what he heard wasn’t the voices playing a joke on him. 

Much to his surprise and disdain, it was not a joke.

There, on screen, was his doctor, the someone who hadn’t shown her face for two weeks. Even with the grainy TV resolution, Joker could see her clear as day, especially since what she wore was something that would not fly under Arkham’s dress code. 

Her hair was down and straight, making it even longer than when she wore it loose in its natural, semi wavy state. She had it clipped to one side, causing it to spill over her right shoulder, exposing her neck. Her black dress was simple and tight fitting but elegant, with a modest plunging neckline. The dress reached down to her ankles and had a slit on one side. Her makeup was tastefully done, more subtle than Viki Vales’ but the dark eyeliner and eyeshadow contrasted her oceanic eyes, making them electric. 

Joker watched her in disbelief. _Who is this person?_ She did not fit the mold of his Dr. Quinzel, who dressed more conservatively, who wore her hair up, and had no time for nonsense. But she didn’t fit the mold of his Harley either, who was cheeky and could hold her own against him. Whoever it was, she was neither and yet, both personas. 

Joker couldn't deny she looked good.  _ Really really good _ to be exact. A strange feeling ran up his spine, passing to his heart, making it stutter, and settling low his abdomen. He couldn’t recognize this emotion, but the one that was replacing it was on hewell acquainted with it.  _ Rage.  _ Pure, animalistic, murderous rage. The kind of rage he reserved when he felt truly wronged and disrespected. It coursed through his veins quickly, making his hands shake, tunneling his vision to only see her, and causing any sound around him to become muted. He stared at the screen, watching her and not even listening to Morris yell at him to move out of the way. 

_ How dare she?! She’d rather be there?! Has she been with this… this…. this country club weakling all this time?!  _ his bitter thoughts increased in volume as he watched Harleen hit Elliot’s shoulder playfully and smile at something he said while answering Vale’s questions. Oh Joker did not like that. Not at all. He did not like her smiling at him like that, and he especially did not like the way Ken doll was making her laugh like that. 

_ No no. No NO! NO! _ Joker yelled in his head, gritting his teeth and feeling his chest rise and fall quickly as he became more agitated. 

_ HA! _ A raspy, malicious voice shouted in his head.  _ Your precious little doctor if one of them! What a phoney! And you! You’re a fool! She’s been playing you all along! _

This was one of the malevolent voices that screamed in his mind, never really leaving him alone, always antagonizing him. Joker would try to ignore the voice when it became too loud and not very helpful in certain situations but it somehow always got through. He didn’t hate the voice, it could bring a lot of fun, especially when he needed to release some of his energy and pent up anger in a creative manner. Part of him agreed with the malicious voice, thinking that he should remind her of who he was and what he is capable of doing in their next encounter. Another part of him felt a dull ache settle in chest at the thought of her preferring the company of those primed and polished posers instead of him. He did not like the achy feeling, so he chose to hold on to the more familiar emotion of anger instead. 

“C’mon man! Are you deaf or somethin’? Move!” Morris’ raspy, whiny voice called out. He walked over and pushed against Joker’s shoulder, trying to get him to move side but Joker didn't even budge. 

“Don’t touch me.” Joker seethed slowly through clenched teeth, bristling at the man’s touch, which added to his anger.

“Relax man. I just wanna enjoy the view too.” Morris said, a little uneasy and turning to look at the TV screen. “Damn! She’s so hot! What I’d give to spend some time with her. You get what I'm sayin?” Morris asked lavisciously and let out a wheezing laugh. 

Morris’s crude comments were causing a different kind of anger to spread through Joker the more Morris talked about  _ his _ doctor. He ignored the voice in his head that questioned when began calling Harleen  _ his  _ as he began putting together what kind of man Morris was. 

“Shut up,” Joker said in a low threatening voice and turned to face Morris. 

Morris’s eyes were glued to the screen, watching Dr. Quinzel in an unsettling way. His breathing came out in short pants the longer he watched and sweat began to develop on his forehead. 

“Wait. She works here? Man what do I gotta do to have my therapist?” Morris said, shifting uncomfortably. 

_ Kill him! Look at him! Pathetic! He wants what’s ours!  _ The malicious voice in his head shouted so loud that Joker couldn’t tune it out. He didn’t want to anyways;he was happy to oblige in this case.

_ Wait!  _ Shouted another softer, calmer voice.  _ Not here. If you kill him, Harleen will be ridiculed for her work. They’ll say she is way in over her head.  _

This voice was one of his more moral voices. Joker didn’t know where this voice came from but he did know that it was always too soft or silent for him to actually hear it, let alone listen to it. It was too moral. He had no use for it. And yet, he found himself frozen in place. The two voices shouted at each in his head, making it harder for Joker to silence them so he could think for himself. Instead he just clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to calm himself and told Morris to shut up again.

“Oh wait. Did they just mention you? Wait. She’s  _ your  _ therapist?! Oh man! What’s she like? I mean, you  _ gotta _ know. Hey! You wouldn’t mind sharing would ya?” Morris said with a disgusting laugh and adjusting himself not at all discreetly. 

His laugh was cut short because as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Joker lunged at him, tackling him to the group and repeatedly punching him across the face. He couldn’t hear his pleas to stop. The only thing Joker could hear was his own maniacal laugh and the violent voices in his head screaming at him, egging him on along with his own thoughts screaming  _ MINE!  _

The voices feed of the violence he was enacting. How dare this…this…  _ cretin _ think such lewd thoughts about  _ his _ doctor. How dare he act so candidly with him knowing who he was. Joker felt rage but he always felt another emotion he was not too familiar or comfortable with. Protection. 

The disrespect Morris showed Joker through his comments justified his beating, that he understood. He understood his possessive nature of his doctor, but what he couldn't understand is when did he become  _ protective _ of her. Joker had attacked others who annoyed him or infringed on his plans, no matter who they were. He had  _ never  _ felt protective. He could care less what happened to people once they fulfilled their purpose but he hadn’t yet to figure out her purpose in his plans. Joker knew she had a role to play in his escape but what role that was, and whether or not he was going to kill her afterwards was cloudy. She was trying to pry into his mind, which he didn’t appreciate, so her fate should be the same as others who had tried to diagnose and medicate him. There was something stopping him from holding himself to this. Maybe it had to do with the way he could see that there was something else in his little doctor that piqued his interest. Maybe it was that he enjoyed playing with her. Maybe it was that he wouldn’t kill her but maybe torture her mentally, leaving her utterly broken in the process. Whatever it was, Joker didn’t know for sure yet. What he did know was he was really, really,  _ really  _ enjoying beating Morris bloody. 

Eventually, guards rushed over and pulled Joker off Morris but as Morris lay there bleeding, Joker turned his rage to the guards who surrounded him. He laughed as he punched and kicked the guards, causing more to swarm him. The guards got some good shots in too, but Joker was in his element. This was the release he craved. The violence, chaos, and adrenaline fueling his rage, making him move quick and strike hard. 

No matter how hard the guards hit him or tried to hold him down, Joker would pop back up, giggling manically. One guard was able to stun him with his stun gun, affording another the opportunity to tackle the Joker down to the ground. The shock from the gun was mild compared to the ECT he had received during his previous stays at Arkham but it stung and stopped his beating for a second. 

While on the ground, three other guards rushed over, flipping him onto his stomach and pinning his arms behind him. One punched the side of his head as payback, causing black spots to appear in Joker’s vision and making him giggle dangerously. 

_ Ok tough guy _ , he thought, trying to squirm out of their hold. The guards had him pinned and one called for a nurse to rush over. Joker saw the syringe the nurse was carrying for the corner of his eye and began fighting harder, letting out a menacing growl as she approached. A thick, strong hand held his head down, immobilizing him while giving the nurse access to his neck. Joker felt the prick of the needle break through his skin and the drug enter his blood stream. He fought against the drug and guard but after a few minutes, the drug circulated through his veins, causing his mind to get fuzzy and his body heavy. His breathing and heart slowed as a sleepy calm washed over him. The drug subdued him and the guards released him of their hold, placing tight wrist restraints on his hands. Two guards grabbed him under his arms, lifted him up, and began dragging him out of the Rec room. 

In his drugged up stupor, Joker’s vision was fuzzy but he could see Morris’s bloody half dead body on the floor as nurses rushed to try and stabilize him. Joker let out a slurred laugh.  _ Serves him right. _

All the other patients had been cleared out during Joker’s fight. The violence and his laugh unsettled a great deal of them. Even though the Joker had a high pain tolerance, the drug causes his senses to be duller, making it hard for him to assess the extent of his injuries. He could feel his right eye swelling, limiting his already semi-clear vision, and he could feel a dull, pulsing ache around his head and ribs where he had been hit numerous times. The slick feel of blood covered both his hands but he couldn’t tell if that was his blood or Morris’s. Judging by the numb, stabbing feeling that was radiating from the top of his hands to the tips of his fingers, and the way Morris’s face looked, he guessed it was a combination of both. Not surprisingly, Joker felt no remorse for what he did, letting a lazy grin stretch across his lips. 

The guards walked him to his room, making some colorful remarks about him but Joker didn’t care. He could barely make out the words they were saying and even if he could, the drug wouldn’t allow him to do much anyways. Once they reached his room, the guards took off the wrist restraints and threw him unceremoniously onto his cot, causing a small, low, sluggish laugh to escape his lips. It wasn’t long before a sleepy feeling spread throughout his body and while he tried to fight it, darkness slowly consumed him. Right before he entered a dreamless deep sleep, his final thoughts were consumed by electric blue eyes and a wicked smile. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley comes back and finds out what has happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Harley insight on what's going on

Harley did not want to go to the Gala. She expressed this in the most civil way possible during her meeting with Jereimiah a few weeks ago but he insisted she go as a representative of the asylum. He said her academic achievements and talents alone showcased the hard work and passion her fellow employees embodied, as well as the mission of the asylum. Plus, she was the Joker’s doctor after all, and if anyone deserved to speak in the place of the asylum, it was her. Harleen was pretty sure that he just wanted to parade her around like a show dog to try and gain financial support for his family’s deteriotiating name and asylum. Once Jereimiah caught wind that Thomas Elliot, an old medical school friend and chief of surgery at Gotham General asked her if she was going, he basically demanded she go. And reluctantly she did.

She knew it was a bad idea. Joan Leland had pulled Harleen away for several days as her companion to conferences in Gotham and Metropolis where Joan would be a guest speaker on pharmacotherapy and psychotherapy in Major Depressive Disorder. It was a great honor and Harley was excited to go. The conference was held over the course of four days so by the time they got back, Harley would be on time for her Thursday appointment with Joker. But a scheduling issue caused the four day excursion to turn into a six day one, meaning she would be arriving back in Gotham late on Thursday night, missing her appointments with the Joker. Leland informed her that this would not be an issue, and Arkham would inform the guards and the Joker of the changes. 

Harley was skeptical to say the least. There was a 60/40 chance that he would not do that, given his history with the Joker and the busy life he led running the Asylum, but a girl could dream. Joker would not be happy about his missed sessions. Harley learned that quickly during their first few sessions where she had to cancel at the last minute. It wasn’t because he was willing to spill his thoughts and feelings to her, but because it meant he would not be able to get out of his room for some much needed mental stimulation. Harley knew that he enjoyed being able to leave his room and actually talk to someone (even if it was just her) even if all they seemed to talk about was Batman or his schemes. Harley hoped that he would appreciate the haircut and Rec room appointment she made, praying it would hold him off until she could sneak off sometime Friday to see him 

Arkham threw her a curveball when she got back. Not only did she have to play catch up with her own missed work, but Arkham had her take on the work of another psychiatrist who called in sick with the flu. She could get her own work done quickly, that wasn’t an issue --her Type A personality often came with some benefits. Filling in for another psychiatrist with only low level patients meant that any spare time she did have was dedicated to conducting group therapy and updating patient files, which was a long and boring process. So Friday came and went, and while she was able to complete her work and make a dent in updating patient records for her coworker, she was not able to sneak off to see The Joker. 

The Gala was that weekend and by the time Thomas came to pick her up, Harley was already over this week. 

\----------------------------------------

Harley was not surprised to find out that there was an incident involving the Joker and another patient over the weekend when she walked into her office on Monday morning. Due to the violent nature of the attack, the Joker was put into solitary for a few days, which meant no Monday session and a heavy dose of drugs. Harley huffed angrily as she sat in her office, reading the incident report. She pulled up the security footage of the incident to see what truths were in the report. The guards called it an “unprovoked” attack by The Joker but Harley knew better than to trust the word of men who loved antagonizing patients. Especially when it came to The Joker since they could use force to subdue him and they loved to say how they could “control” the infamous, psychotic, green-haired criminal. 

The report noted that Joker entered the Rec room calmly but Harley could see the annoyance all over his face from the second he appeared on camera. The time they spent together allowed her to be able to read him fairly well, picking up on the subtle changes of his emotions and body language better than anyone else. Sometimes even better than him. The guards missed that. They should’ve kept a closer eye on him, especially as he made his way around the room like a shark swimming through fish filled water. He could easily manipulate the low risk patients, easily attack them or the nurses or guards just for  _ something _ to entertain him. 

The guards noted in the report that the patient The Joker attacked was Morris Corbin, a low level patient with a mood disorder, and the attack was unprovoked. Harley scoffed at that, knowing that there had been some complaints from the female nurses and patients against Morris and his behavior towards them. Harley fast forwarded the footage to just before the attack to see what happened that could lead Joker to snap. 

The somewhat grainy video showed Joker sitting down, playing with a deck of cards, occasionally muttering to himself somewhat aggregated. Then, all of a sudden, Joker jumped out of his seat and stalked to where the TV and Morris were. She could see Morris speaking to Joker from his potion on the couch, waving his arm back and forth but due to lack of sound, Harley couldn’t make out what he was saying. Logic told her that it was probably related to Morris wanting the Joker to move but without sound, she could not confirm that something he said set Joker off.

_ Hopefully with the donations from the dog and pony show I had to put will fix that _ , Harley thought bitterly. 

The asylum was in desperate need of remodeling and modernization, especially when it came to security measures and infrastructure. During her time working there, she noticed that money would come in but updates would hardly ever be made, making her wonder where the funds were actually going. 

The video did show the Joker completely ignoring Morris, totally engrossed on whatever was playing on the TV. Harley couldn’t see what it was but whatever it was, it was making him very, very,  _ very _ , angry. To someone who hadn’t spent much time with him, it looked like he was just very interested in what he was watching. Harley knew better. His back was to the camera but Halrey could see how tight and stiff his posture was, how his hands clenched and unclenched every few seconds. He was practically shaking with anger. 

“Uh oh.” Harley said out loud knowing what would happen if he didn’t redirect his attention or let it go. 

Experience had taught her that sometimes it was better to just leave him alone when he was this angry, knowing that intervening would do nothing but add to his anger and cause him to take it out on whoever was there. Other times, distraction would work. She found this worked best when he was too absorbed with whatever was going on inside his head or manic and slightly disasotivate. The video showed that this was not the case. 

Harley shook her head at the lack of intervention by the guards who should’ve stepped in, mildly sedated him, and brought him back to a padded room for a little so he could release his anger against those walls and not the people inside the Rec room. 

Harley watched wide-eyed as Morris walked over and pushed against Joker’s shoulder, making him tense up. “Shouldn’t have done that.” she muttered, shaking her head at Morris’s boldness. 

Joker did not like being touched, especially not when he was agitated. She got away with it a few times, however. Joker didn’t immediately attack him then, which surprised her.  _ Guess he has better self control than I thought. _

Morris backed up a little but still kept talking and staring intensely at the TV screen. Joker turned to face Morris, allowing his face to be seen on camera and good god, did he look  _ murderous.  _ Harley’s eyes widened as she paused the video to look at him. His jaw was clenched tightly, as were his hands, but his body relaxed a little, telling her that he was getting ready to explode. Whatever he was watching and what Morris had said set him off. 

_ Unprovoked my ass,  _ Harley thought in disbelief, wondering for the hundredth time what the relation was between what was on the TV and Morris’s words that caused him to be so enraged. 

She pressed play and watched Morris’s mouth move while his eyes remained glued on the screen, completely unaware of the danger he was putting himself in. He was shifting slightly, looking uncomfortable for a second and adjusting himself in an unsubtle manner. Almost instantly, Joker lunged at him, tackling him to the ground and punching Morris repeatedly in the face. Harely’s eyes were glued to her computer screen, unblinking and completely enthralled in what she was seeing. 

The violence captivated her. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before. The Joker looked wild and completely frenzied as he threw punch after punch after punch across Morris’s face, sending blood everywhere. She could see the crazed smile on his lips and his shoulders shake with laughter. Other patients had begun to run in and out of the shot panically, and a few guards  _ finally  _ rushed over to pull Joker off of the bloody man. He turned his attack on the guards, creating a tornado of chaos around him. 

He was completely in his element, moving swiftly dodging the guards’ punches and the stun guns they carried while hitting them with such force that many went down with one punch. He did not relent. Even when hit hard by guards who were bigger and more muscular than him, Joker would pop back up from the ground and hit them back.

The Joker looked crazy, and dangerous, and… and…  _ so free _ . Harley felt her breathing quicken and a tingle of excitement run down her spine as she watched him take blow after blow from the guards while delivering his own attack so effortlessly. She could see blood everywhere, staining the carpet, his clothes, and smeared across his hands and face. He projected power and thrived off the chaos around him. It mesmerized her. It made her  _ jealous _ . The Joker did not hold himself back. He did not even try to do so. What would be the point in that? Why should he not give into his true nature? Harley envied this ability to be so free, so unrestrained by what the world needed someone to be. She had spent years molding herself into who she was in order to escape the life she grew up in and into someone who was successful. Someone who was respectable. Someone who was  _ good _ . Most of the time, her cool, calm, and collected persona benefited her and she didn’t mind exercising self control, especially since it allowed her to benefit by playing this role. But it had been a role that she had been playing for so long that she sometimes forgot who she truly was, and what some of her wilder tendencies included. Her control would slip sometimes, especially when Joker provoked her or made her excited. She would catch herself before she got too carried away but she wondered what would happen if she let herself fall sometimes. 

The assault on the guards did not last very long. While the Joker got good shots in, he was quickly outnumbered and took hard blows from the bigger and more burly guards. One guard was able to shock him with the stun gun, immobilizing him for a second. Other guards quickly rushed over, bringing him to the ground face down. They pinned his arms behind his back and placed restraints on his wrists while Joker tried breaking out of their grasp. Harley’s hand curled in anger as she saw one guard punch Joker in the back of the head. Harley saw a nurse rush over with a syringe and inject something into his neck. She glanced at the medical report and saw that they had injected him with a high dose of  Midazolam mixed with  Thorazine . 

_ At least someone read my notes _ , Harley noted somewhat annoyedly. If the guards and nurses actually read her reports on him, they could’ve possibly avoided what she just saw occur. It took a few minutes for the durg to spread through his body but Harley was impressed with his ability to fight off the drug for as long as he did. She knew of his high drug tolerance, which was either related to his drug use or the effects of the acid bath that he took prior to his rebirth as The Joker. Still, his ability to resist was impressive; the dose she recommended was strong enough to put down someone four times his size and strength. Once calm, the guards led him back to his room in order for the drug to completely subdue him into a deep sleep. 

The medical report indicated that prior to being taken to solitary confinement, a nurse assessed and treated his injuries. The knuckles on both hands were torn apart, requiring some stitches to stop the bleeding. The middle knuckles of his right hand were dislocated and had to be popped back into place before being wrapped up so it could heal properly. Harley winced at the pain his injuries might have caused him, even though his pain threshold was high and the drugs took the edge off. The report also noted bruising on his arms, face, and eye from the guards, which upset her since it didn’t mention any head trauma that the hits to the head and face she knew would cause. Compared to Morris, Joker got off easy. The report noted that Morris was beaten almost to death. Most of his teeth were knocked out, his right cheekbone and eye socket were broken, along with his nose. He sustained severe head trauma and was placed in a medically induced coma due to the trauma. Morris had been moved to a room at Gotham General when his condition worsened. They suspect he won’t make it past the week. 

Harly sat in her chair, taking several slow breaths trying to relax herself so she could think. She replayed the attack over and over again in her mind. All of it could’ve been avoided. She felt a little bad for Morris but was more sympathetic towards Joker who had been in solitary until Wednesday and drugged up - two things she knew he did not appreciate. Harley knew her disappearance would annoy him, especially when not being told why she was gone. She didn’t mind going to conferences with Joan. After all, she was a very intelligent individual who also carved mentally stimulating environments. She just didn’t need the same kind of stimulation that the Joker needed. It wasn’t anyone's fault that the time slots got messed up, causing her to come back later than expected. If Arkham hadn’t made her cover for one of her coworkers, she would have visited The Joker in his room on Friday before leaving to explain what happened and possibly prevented the whole attack all thought. But noooo, Arkham just had to insist she take up extra work. Just like he insisted that she attend the Gala. His constant ordering her around was getting on her last nerve. Sure he was her boss but at some point, she would have to put her foot down.

The Gala offered her nothing. It was nice to see Thomas, but she did not belong to the same circles that Thomas did. Nor did she want to. She was really good at pretending that she did, perfectly meeting their unspoken requirements. Her natural beauty and high intellect made it easy for her to charm her way around the rich upper class of Gotham. Her reputation and accomplishments piqued the interests of many at the Gala. She even had some money to her name, not as much as those around her but enough that she could indulge herself with similar material possessions. But acting that way was tiring and it bore her. Especially when she didn’t want to and found no point in doing so. They were all there to flaunt their money and outdo one another. They were there to showboat and make connections for themselves with government officials of the city. No one was there because they truly wished to help the city’s service workers, well maybe except for Bruce Wayne. 

No. Harley found pretentiousness and narrow mindedness so predictable and dull. The condescending tones she received once they learned about who she was and what she did set her teeth one edge. If she had to hear about how it was dangerous for a woman as pretty as her to be working at Arkham, especially as The Joker’s doctor one more time, she was going to stab someone. 

Harley let out a tired sigh, removed her glasses to press the heels of her hands against her eyes, and dragged her fingers through her hair as to prepare herself for what she had to do. She emailed Joan letting her know that she read the report and would be meeting with The Joker during their normal Thursday afternoon time slot for a therapy session. She then got the necessary files and appointment list she needed for her other patients and began preparing to meet with them.


	3. Chapter 3

The Joker sat on the hard chair that was bolted to the floor and waited. His wrists were shackled and chained to a metal loop that was attached to the metal table in front of him. Dr. Quinzel told the guards not to put him in the straight jacket he normally had to have on when he misbehaved for his therapy session due to the injuries he sustained to his hands. Grudgingly they listened, uncomfortable that The Joker would have easier access to his hands around the pretty, young doctor. The Joker was taken out of solitary confinement the previous night and since then, he was quiet. He did not like being put in that room nor did not like the drugs they kept giving him. It caused his already scattered thoughts and memories to become even more scrambled but quiet at times, so that sometimes the only he’d hear was his own screaming. The rare dreams he had also made even less sense to him than but were more vivid and so intense that he sometimes woke up screaming, covered in cold sweat. He did not like it. Not one bit. 

The Joker knew the room like the back of his swollen, stitched up hand. It was the therapy room Dr. Quinzel designated to their session, and him being in here only meant one thing. 

_ The doctor is in hmmm? How wonderful _ , he thought bitterly, still upset over what happened the week before. He pulled on the chain making it rattle. 

The Joker sat with his head down, gaze fixed on the floor, and forearms resting on his knees. Although some swelling in hands had gone down, his knuckles still had purple-blue bruises and were a bit tender. The pain didn’t bother him, but he hated how his skin itched because of the stitches pulling at his skin, especially under the stockinette and wrap that was around his right hand. His middle and ring fingers were also tapped so the knuckles could heal in the correct position, making right hand completely imbolie and useless. They didn’t trust him enough not to turn a hard cast into a weapon so instead, a stockinette with medical wrap and tape was used.

He didn’t regret the attack. Why would he? He got to unleash a little chaos and remind everyone who he was. Nearly killing that useless degenerate was fun and made him feel good. Too bad Joker didn’t though.

_ Close but no cigar.  _ He let out a dark giggle.

\--------------------------------------

The distinct sound of heels clicking against the outside hallway floor echoed in his ear. As the sound approached, it got louder, and sent a tingle down his spine. The fine hairs on the back of his neck rose up, alerting him of who was coming. Only one other person could get a reaction like that out of him, but Batman did not wear heels or work in an asylum. The Joker quickly pushed down the excitement that spread throughout his body. He was still bitter and he was not about to let her continue to affect him. He had not had his fun with her yet. Keeping his gaze to the floor, he saw a pair of stocking clad legs and red heels approach the other end of the table. The chair opposite of him was pulled out and he watched as the person took a seat, crossing one stocking clad leg over the other.

A few minutes of silence passed, making Harley uneasy. The Joker didn’t so much as bat an eye at her as she walked in and took her seat. Normally, he’d give her some sort of acknowledgement -- a snarky remark, a sarcastic dragged out  _ hellllooooo doctor, _ hell, even a low growl on days where he was feeling less than cordial. But today… nothing. She did not like it. She knew he was upset at the disappearance but it really wasn’t her fault. 

Harley took a breath and broke the silence with a soft “Hi.” 

“My, my. Aren't you a sight for  _ sore eyes. _ ” The Joker said, letting out a humorous giggle, picking up his head to look at her. 

His voice was a little horse from lack of use, but the sarcasm rang clear, and his little joke was not lost on Harley as she stared at his bruised face and black eye. The bruises along his jaw had faded to a yellowish-green but the one under his eye still had a purple-ish hue. Harley noticed his hair was shorter than when she had seen him last. It still stood up messily around the top of his head but the strands no longer fell into his eyes everytime he moved his head or looked down. Knowing that his sarcasm and sing-songy tone was usually a warning sign that things could turn very dangerous, a slight shiver of fear ran through her. 

_ Even after everything that happened did no one tell him where I was?  _ Harely wondered, listening to him give a low snarl, causing her to snap back her focus back to the trying to defuse the semi-problematic situation she was finding herself in. Despite knowing what he could do, she couldn’t help but feel a little...giddy. He was talking to her, which was a plus, and she couldn’t help but think that he looked good. The time they spent apart made her forget just how magnetic he was and the slight hold he had on her. 

The Joker gave her a wolfish smile as she stared at him, “Thought you’d forgotten about little ol’ me mmmm…” He enjoyed the look of unease that washed over her when he spoke. 

Harley’s anxiety began to spike the more his voice shifted from playful, to one that was darker and more menacing. 

_ Yup no one told him. He’s pissed. Great.  _ Harley swallowed hard, trying to clear the tight feeling in her throat before speaking in a soft and calm voice. 

“No. Not at all,” she tilted her head slightly to the side, moved a piece of her hair that had fallen out of the messy ponytail and onto her face, and looked up at him from under her lashes. “Who could ever forget you, Mr. J?” Disarming him was probably the best course of action since it would distract him, and hopefully dispel the residual anger he had for her. Calling him by one of his preferred names hopefully showed him that she wasn’t here to antagonize him.

The look she was giving frazzled the Joker and he wasn’t someone who was usually easily flustered. His blood seemed to rush and an odd warm sensation settled in his chest. 

Is _ she flirting with me?  _ He narrowed his eyes at her, very unsure of what she was doing and trying to see through her tactic. He was slightly impressed at her ability to control her unease and openly flirt with him. She was playing with fire and enjoying it. The Joker felt the corner of his lip twitch slightly at her, realizing that he forgot how enjoyably reckless she could be sometimes. He liked this version of her and seeing her hold her own against him after not seeing him in two weeks made him remember how she was not all that she seemed to be. His  _ Dr. Quinzel _ had many layers that he’d enjoy peeling away.

_ No! Fool! Don’t you see what she’s doing?! Don't you dare fall into her trap!  _ Screamed an angry voice but Dr. Quinzel’s voice quickly drowned it out.

“I apologize for my disappearance. I was attending a conference and it ended up lasting a few days longer than expected due to some scheduling issues. I asked Dr. Arkham to let you know but I guess he didn’t relay the message. I’m sorry.” 

The Joker was slightly taken aback by the honesty and sincerity in her voice. Very few people apologized to him and meant it. He didn’t have time for excuses and would usually end up killing anyone who apologized to him. They weren’t actually sorry, they were just worried that their fuck up would anger the Joker, resulting in thier death or worse. They were usually right to assume this, but Dr. Quinzel’s apology was different. 

He stared at her bright blue eyes, calculating his next move. Although he could tell she was telling the truth, he didn’t care about the stupid confrence. No, no. She betrayed him by going to the Gala and choosing  _ those _ people over him. This apology was insufficient; she had played him but he wasn’t done playing with her yet. 

He placed his forearms on the table and leaned forward, crowding her space. Harley’s eyes flickered to his injured hands and had to clasp her own together to prevent her from touching his hands. A wave of sympathy washed over her as she thought about the pain he went through each day since he refused to take any pain medication. She made a mental note to ask if he’d let her check his stitches later, hopefully when he was less angry. Once she looked up to meet his gaze, any hope of him forgiving her quickly deteriorated due to the hard look his green eyes held. 

“Mmhmm…. What a good doctor you are,” Joker said condescendingly, “Now tell me, did ya learn anything new from your uhhh…  _ date _ ? Hmm?” 

_ Date?  _ Harley thought, drawing her eyebrows together in confusion.  _ Does he mean Joan? But how could he know I was with her? Does he mean…  _

“No?” Joker interrupted her thoughts, giving a low growl when speaking, “Hmmm you seemed awfully chummy with that Ken doll. What about the trust fund brigade and Stepford wives hmmm? Did ya get some new insights from them? Or were you too busy selling yourself out to them? Oh you looked so  _ perfect  _ in their world.” He sneered, growling out the words at her, letting his resentment ring clear. 

Realization to what he meant hit her like someone dumped a bucket of ice cold water over her. Harley could hear his anger loud and clear, but underneath all that venom, there was a subtle hurt tone. Her disappearance wasn’t the only thing that was bothering him and whatever it was, it was related to the Gala and Thomas Elliot. 

“Nice dress by the way. Although I would’ve suggested something…. dark blue. Or  _ blood red. _ ” Joker said genuinely, purring out the words giving his most charming smile. A light blush rose to Harley’s cheek at the compliment. 

_ HA! Look at her! She’s a school girl! A play thing! Go on play with her!  _ screeched a sardonic voice. Joker shushed it. He wasn’t being sarcastic with his words; he really did think she looked nice even though his color choices would’ve been superior. He would never admit that out loud however. 

“How did you…” Harley cut herself off, shaking her head. She ignored the compliment despite the way it made her blush, and let her hurt and annoyance at his previous statement fuel her anger. Him calling her a sell out like that stung. How dare he think of her like that! It’s not like she wanted to be there and around those people. He didn’t know her at all if that's what he thought of her! 

Joker saw the anger rise in her, watching the way her eyes turned stormy and how she clenched her hands tight like she wanted to hit him. 

_ Oohh. What’s this now?  _ Joker tilted his head to look at her quizzically, intrigued by her reaction. 

“It was not _my_ _choice_ to go,” Harley said in a low, seething voice, and locking her hard gaze on to his vivid green eyes. A slight shiver ran through him, but he was unable to tell it was from excitement or slight fright. A little of both was more like it. “What’s your deal huh? You act like I wanna spend my free time around those…. those… rich brats? Is that what ya think? That I like bein’ paraded around like some show dog by Arkham and havin’ to listen to nothin’ but self-righteous, narrow minded bullshit for hours on end?!” 

Joker’s eyes widened in surprise as her cool and calculating demeanor slipped into something a little more unhinged. He could see her shoulder shake slightly and the distinct Broolyn accent she tried to hide began to slip out the more fired up she got, letting him know she was down right pissed. 

“Fuck you J.” Harley spat out low, anger lacing her words. Joker’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

There was silence after that as he stared at her through narrow eyes, as a blanket of danger hung in the air. No one has ever, ever,  _ ever  _ talked to him like that--at least, no one living. And yet, he did not have the urge to kill her like he normally would’ve with no hesitation. No no. He was enjoying this. He liked reling her up, especially when it chipped away her layers, giving him insight into who she was trying to hide. He liked this version of her; he liked it  _ alot _ . Way more than any other persona she tried to project herself as. This version of her, this  _ Harley _ as he would call her, was dangerous. She was free. She was  _ fun.  _ When she would come out to play, he would feel a mix of things. His heart beat harder and adrenaline would course through his veins as if getting ready for a fight. But his heart beat slower too, making it harder to breathe. His skin would feel tingly and excitement would wash over every part of his body, while his mind raced, indecisive as to what to do. The Joker did not understand any of this. So he did what he knew best, laugh as he became his own private joke. 

Joker threw his head back and let out a crazed, unnerving laugh, causing Harley to jump slightly and realize what she said. 

“Didn’t you enjoy your time with the real housewives of Gotham,  _ Harley _ ?” He said, in a low voice, purring out her nickname. 

Harley’s heart stuttered as the name left his lips and his eyes changed to a soft, playful mossy green instead of holding malice. 

“No.” she responded honestly, mirroring the way he leaned on his arms, shortening the distance between them. 

She liked it when he called her  _ Harley _ . No one ever did except herself at times, and when people talked down to her.  _ Harley _ did not sound as sophisticated and mature  _ Harleen, _ and it was  _ Harleen _ that got her to where she was today. She had long learned to embrace and model herself into one while hiding away another but she had done this for so long that she sometimes forgot that the other lurked below the surface. When Joker called her  _ Harley _ , it wasn’t in the condescending tone that her old college professors and family members used, no not at all. He said her name almost affectionately which made her react in ways she knew she should not. It caused her to not be so in control of herself which was nice sometimes. It was  _ fun.  _

The doctor and her patient stared at each other unrelentlessly. The patient was trying to figure out his doctor, who seemed to be more puzzling and interesting than he originally thought. The doctor tried to see past the diabolical clown criminal he presented and into who he was before. His mind fascinated her as did his capabilities, and figuring out how it all worked together was proving to be quite challenging for her, even though she was quite remarkable in her field. He was a puzzle for her to figure out. He was just a bit more dangerous than the ones sold at the toy store. His gaze didn’t cause an uneasy feeling to course through like she knew it did to other people, and her invading his space caused a whirlwind of emotions to course through him. A hint of confusion went across his features so fast that she almost didn’t catch it. But she had spent way too much time studying him to miss it. She noticed his pupils dilate ever so slightly and shift in his chair while a low vibrating sound rumbled from his chest. A small smirk spread across her lips as she realized that she too had an unorthodox affect him. Ignoring every instinct that told her not to, Harley leaned in closer to him, testing her theory, and triumply watching his pupils grow in size again and the low purr grow louder. 

He couldn’t think straight. Her musky-sweet scent invaded his air as she leaned closer to him, eyes flickering to his lips than back to his eyes quickly. She was really testing his self control. He didn’t know if he had any right now. The voices in his head became a low buzz and he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He couldn’t even hear his own thoughts; all he could hear was his blood rushing as his heart thudded hard in his chest and the low purr that was growing in his chest. The pent up anger the Joker harbored for nearly two weeks was slowly deteriorating the more she played the game he was trying to win, but the way she reacted and how her behavior could change to counter his own made it really, really,  _ really _ hard to focus on winning. He seemed to enjoy the game just for the sake of it and not just for the manipulation aspect of it. Although he didn’t really understand some of his own reactions, he did know it had something to do with…. attraction. He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that Dr. Harleen Quinzel was absolutely stunning, but it was his attraction to her that he couldn’t quite understand. 

In his early days as the Joker, when he was still figuring out what the hell happened to him, he did engage in more carnal behaviors but he really didn’t seem to enjoy it. His body did but no other reactions arose in him. Not like this anyways. It wasn’t just her physical beauty that drove him to be confused, it was her behavior and his own too. People didn’t normally try to play his games with him, let alone do it as well as her. The only other person who surpassed her was Batman but with him, it was a different kind of game. The one he was playing with her was evolving into something else too, he just didn’t know it. She was witty and smart and even a little dangerous at times the way she challenged him, calling him out on his bullshit. He didn’t always want to kill her or even harm her, at least not physically, when she countered him, which was odd to him. Anyone would’ve long been dead. Past psychiatrists who tried this “show no fear” approach could attest to that. And yet, here she was, smirking at him and staring at him with such intensity that he wondered what she was looking for as his body reacted in a way he had long forgotten it could.

Part of him wanted to rip the shackles off, reach across the table, and rip her apart to stop the lack of emotional control he was experiencing. Another part of him--perhaps a larger part, wanted to grab her,  _ kiss _ her, and do things he didn’t know he’d ever want to do. He found himself leaning towards her too. He wanted to  _ devour  _ her.

_ Stop it!  _ A loud, snarling voice broke through the muted buzz that had blanketed his mind, causing him to pull back from her and snapping him out of his trance.  _ You’re letting emotions control you?! Letting HER manipulate you?! You puppet! Stop this! NOW!  _ The voice screamed at his as screams echoed behind him, letting him know what he should do. 

_ Not yet! Not yet!  _ He shouted back, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. 

Harley was grateful that he pulled back. The tension around them went from being something fueled by anger to something… else. She was well aware of his ability to manipulate people, especially the psychiatrist at Arkham but nothing in his file stated that he was prone to this kind of behavior. It confused her and made her body react in ways she knew she should not. But it was addictive. It was exciting. It was  _ dangerous _ . 

_ Get it together!  _ Harley yelled at herself while taking a few deep breaths trying to calm her erratic heart. She noticed that the Joker was also having some internal dialogue and trying to clear his head based on the way he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head a few times. 

“What’s your deal with them anyways? I thought you dealt with more….underworld types.” Harley asked, breaking the silence and transforming back to the cool, calm, and collected doctor. This was probably the best move she could do, knowing that if she continued to let him toy with her in the way that he was, things would not end well for both of them. 

_ See! _ Seethed the raspy voice in his head that continued to yell at him.  _ She just wants information! She doesn't know anything about us! What it is that we do! Our bigger picture!  _

“Careful now Harley,” Joker chided her in a low voice, warning her that he wasn’t up for a deep dive into his mind and motives right now, “That big brain of yours could get you in trouble.” 

That sent a wave of trepidation through her. His mercurial behavior still made her uncertain at times about how to engage with him. She knew silence would eventually get him talking again. He loved to talk about himself and his somewhat delusional ideas and plans. True to his nature, the Joker eventually spoke up. 

“They’re just a bunch of unoriginal phonies,” He scoffed in disgust, shaking his head. “Not a single unique thought exists between them. No no no. They’re too afraid to admit to themselves what they really are so they point to the dregs of society to keep themselves safe and secure. You’ve seen them, seen through their charades. You’re a smart girl hmmm….” he nodded at her. 

Harley could tell the shift in energy again. His voice would dip high and low, enunciating certain words while using his hands to try and get his point across, which was a little hard to do since he couldn’t really extend his fingers all the way. Still, Harley remained quiet, knowing interrupting him would go unappreciated. Not that she wanted to anyways; she was enjoying the insight he was giving her. 

“They only see feet in front of them, not the  _ big picture _ ! To them it's all about money and looks; it keeps them feeling safe. Keeps them in  _ power _ . But what happens when that's all  _ ripped  _ from them hmm? What happens when  _ someone _ comes along to point out that  _ they _ are nothing but a bunch of nothings. I’ll tell ya, they build places like this to lock ‘em up. Oh they  _ looove  _ an illusion. Make ‘em think their way is the best way. Their way is the  _ safe way _ . That they are there to  _ help _ . Oh no, no no. And when they fuck up, its the plebians fault. It's the criminals, the  _ crazies _ that are to blame not them --they’re just trying to  _ help _ .” He let out a humorous laugh while continuing his rant. 

“All you gotta do is disrupt their little world, shine some light on the bigger picture and boom! They all start running like chickens with their heads cut off!” His shoulders were rising and falling as he began breathing harder and harder. Harley watched speechlessly as he tried to calm himself down. He spoke with such passion and fury and conviction that she couldn’t help but be enthralled by what he had to say. Everyone thought he was a crazy, murderous, sociopath but he tended to make some very good points. He was all those things (and more) and the fact that he fed off the violence and chaos he created, not to mention his own narcissism made it hard to agree with him. But when it came to points, he seemed to make a lot of sense. 

“And what is the big picture?” She asked intrigued by his insight. The Joker didn’t respond to that question. Instead he gave her a slow smile that did not convey joy and made her feel as if she was missing something. 

_ Oh Harley, wouldn’t you like to know. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Joker got a bit jealous and doesn't know how to deal with it the. He'll never admit it though.
> 
> Thank you all for the kudos!! I'm so happy this little story's getting read. Please leave comments and suggestions!!! 
> 
> Side note, in my version of these two clowns, both a relatively young, like mid-late 20s. I like the idea of him being a younger, more erratic criminal who's still figuring out his plans for Gotham and not really know how to deal with his emotions towards Harley. 
> 
> Snow storm is coming in this week so I'll probably add another chapter or two. 
> 
> Thanks all :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little chaotic......

They stayed in silence for a bit, both needing a break. Harley learned not to push him for too much information too soon or else he’d shut down and become annoyed. Her head was also spinning a little, probably due to her overthinking and trying to figure out what his words and that smile meant. She took off her glasses once she finished writing down notes on her legal pad and rubbed her eyes. The Joker was too busy muttering to himself and pulling at his chains absentmindedly to notice her. She slid the hair tie out of her hair, letting her long, soft wavy locks fall around her shoulders, hoping to relieve the headache that was developing. 

_ At least he wasn’t so angry at me anymore,  _ she thought a little triumpfuly. 

“Why’d you attack Morris?” She asked. As soon as the name left her mouth, the Joker stopped muttering and pulling at the chain and curled his lip in disgust. 

“He was trying to take something of mine,” He said, staring at her intensely, green eyes glowing with hidden meanings. Harley scowled slightly at his words. A lazy amused grin stretched across his lips; her reaction amused him. “I don’t like sharing.” He let out a manic giggle, making her feel left out again. She realized she didn’t like being left out of his jokes.

Just as Harley was about to respond, a flashing red light filled the room and an alarm blared out in the hallway. The door was closed so it wasn’t as deafening as it could be. Their eyes met, confusion going across Harley’s face while the Joker was more indifferent. She gave him a questioning look but his gaze remained impassive while he shrugged his shoulders. Whatever was going on wasn’t his doing, which, for once, was true. The sounds of heavy boots stomping in the hallway along with muted screams and shouting caused the Joker to turn his head to look at the door.

_ The hell’s going on? _ He wondered, becoming more interested. 

Harley knew something was wrong. The red light and alarm told her as much but no voice code came over the loudspeaker, altering her and the staff what kind of code it was so they knew what protocol to follow. She found this odd and wondered where Arkham was.

“Something's wrong.” Harley said in an even tone, staring at the door with her eyebrows drawn together, trying to listen if a message was being sent through the speakers outside of the room. She wouldn't be surprised if the speaker in her current room was broken. 

The Joker shot her a look that said  _ duh! _ but Harely ignored it as she rose out of her chair and made her way to the door. 

Joker’s eyes followed her.  _ She heads towards danger. Interesting.  _ He thought to himself, curiously and impressed. A cold chill ran down the Joker’s spine as Harley approached the door while the noise got louder. It was an odd sensation for him since he was never concerned about safety, neither for his own and especially not for others. But for some reason, the thought of something being outside that could harm her made his blood run cold and his chest to feel tight. He did not like this feeling at all. It made him feel weak. 

Harley got halfway to the door before two guards burst through the door, causing her to jump back a few feet out and let out a surprised yell. The Joker jumped to his feet instantly and almost ran towards her but the chains that attached his wrists to the table only let him get a few feet away. Once he realized it was just two guards, he sat down, annoyed at how his body acted on its own accord at her scream -- and not in the way he normally likes. 

“Doctor!” The taller of the two guards said, slightly out of breath. His grey and blue guard uniform had traces of sweat around the collar and arms. “An inmate escaped his room and attacked Dr. Arkham in his office before disappearing. We’re trying to track him down. He caused some havoc outside but by the time we got there, he was gone again. The hallway is clear and secure now so we’re going to have to move you somewhere more secure and take your patient back to his room.” 

The other guard said something into the walkie attached to his shoulder as the taller one spoke to Dr. Quinzel. Once they realized that The Joker was in the room with them, their demeanor shifted quickly, both becoming a little uneasy but trying to evoke a sense of bravado as they were here to save the pretty young doctor for any and all harm. The Joker rolled his eyes. 

“Jones, restrain him further so we can move him,” said the taller guard who Joker began calling Tweedle Dee. Jones was shorter than the other guard, and but just as burly. He walked towards Joker apprehensively while carrying another set of handcuffs. The Joker let out a low growl, warning Jones not to come near him and effectively stopping him dead in tracks. 

_ Oh good. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum,  _ Joker snickered to himself. 

“And why can’t we just stay here and lock the door?” Joker asked, looking directly at Harley, completing ignoring the task the guards said they were here to complete. He had no interest in these meatheads trying to play hero.

“Shut it clown!” Tweedle Dee snapped at him, trying to control the situation and assert his authority. 

The Joker gave Harley an incredulous look, as if to say  _ you’re kidding me right _ .

“Doctor, we have a protocol to follow.” Tweedle Dee said, motioning for his partner to go one with the green haired patient. That elicited another growl to sound from the back of the Joker’s throat, this one louder and more menacing. 

_ They wanna play hero?! Show them how to play!  _ Joker found himself agreeing with the sinister voice in his head.

“I'll move him, it’s fine.” Harley said sensing that this was not going to end well for the guard who was trying to move closer to her patient. The machismo the guards were trying to showcase were beginning to annoy her as much as she knew it was annoying Joker. She walked towards him, flashing him a steady look that translated to  _ behave. _ An incorrigible grin spread across his lips. 

A loud crashing noise echoed in the hallway, causing Tweedle Dee and Dum to look towards the open door. A few guards ran by the room towards the noise followed by a few screams. 

“Fuck,” Tweedle Dee muttered irritated, “Jones quit fucking around. Restrain him now! Sorry doc, we gotta go.” He wrapped one of large hands around her biceps and dragged her towards the door. 

The Joker did not like that. Not one bit. Fury coursed through his veins, making the murderous voices howl with excitement, and him to see red as the guard manhandled his doctor. 

“Don’t touch her.” He snarled in a dark low voice while his body vibrated with anger. 

“Shut it clown.” Tweedle Dum said, finally reaching him, placing a firm hand on the back of his neck, and driving his body forward into the table. 

Joker grunted.  _ Oh no no no. This won’t do.  _

“Hey!” Harley shouted, in reprimand of the guard’s force. 

_ Lets go! Lets go! Lets go!  _ Shouted the voices in his head, egging him on to do something at the lack of respect the guards were showing.  _ Don’t they know who we are!?! REMIND THEM!  _

The Joker fought back against the guards hold as he tried to place the cuffs on him. From the corner of his eye, the Joker could see a pair of shiny metal keys hanging from the belt of the guard as he moved towards the side to get a better grip on the Joker. Past experience reminded him that it was the keys to the cuff that were currently restraining his hand. The Joker smirked at the plain in his head. 

_ Fuck this _ .

He’d had enough. Enough of the guards and the disrespect they showed him thinking they could control him, enough of the lack of fear that patients and doctors seemed to have developed, and enough of the confusing, whirlwind of emotions that he seemed to be experiencing around Dr. Harleen Quinzel. 

_ Gooood. Let go!  _ one slowly growled. Joker turned his head to look at Harley who was yelling at the guard that still had a firm grasp on her arm while more loud noises occurred in the hallway. Harley felt his gaze on her and turned to look at him instantly. His eyes flickered to the guards hand on her and then back to hers. Harley watched in horror as a wicked, shark like grin spread across his lips, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. She knew that grin all too well. It was the same grin she’d seen on old footage of him right before he attacked his past psychiatrists, and the grin Gotham News often displayed when he was caught on camera in midst of his fights with Batman. This was not a happy grin, not in the slightest.

Animals often bare their teeth as a sign of aggression or show of force. And this, this was that kind of grin. She shook her head slightly, as if to plead him not to do what she knew he was going to, but judging by the manic look in his eyes and the unnerving grin, she knew she wasn’t going to get through to him. 

“Why does everyone keep trying to take my things?” He asked, calmly. 

Harley’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. After a second, her eyes went wide, understanding what he meant. Before she could even react, Joker threw his head back, hitting Jones squarely on the nose. The guards instantly let go of him, hands rushing to his nose, screaming in pain as blood gushed out. The Joker swiftly grabbed the keys from the guards belt before he got out of reach, unlocked his hands from the chain that anchored him to the table, and stood up facing the guards and Harley. He twisted his neck side to side, cracking it while letting out a low moan, and flexed the fingers of his left hand, testing the pain and mobility. He ignored the dull ache that ran through the back of his hands. 

“Fuck! Don’t move the clown!” Tweedle Dee said, letting go of the blonde, seeing that Tweedle Dum was useless as he moaned and cried over the pain of his broken nose.

Letting the restored rage fuel him, Joker acted on instinct, lunging at Tweedle Dum and beating him with his newly freed hands. The voices in his head sung with approval, adding fuel to his murderous fire. A mix of Jones’s blood and his own coated the back of his hands as his stitches tore open. Jolts of pain radiated from from the tips of his fingers to his elbow but the high amounts of adrenaline and endorphins that coursed through his veins from being completely in his element helped numb it. 

The Joker kept up his assault, laughing maniacally as blood splattered everywhere and the voices cheered. _Yes! Good! Kill him! AHAHAHA! Go! Go! Go!_ _No weakness! No mercy!_

A large force pushed against him, effectively getting him off the bloody guard and causing him to roll on the floor. The Joker popped back up to his feet, letting out a giggle as Tweedle Dee pulled out his stun gun. 

“Oooo you brought toys!” mocked Joker in a high pitched voice. “Let’s play.” His voice dropped down two octaves, becoming darker as the guard came at him trying to zap him with the gun. The Joker danced around the guards, moving quickly and gracefully, avoiding the electric prongs skillfully. He giggled as he skipped around the guard, antagonizing the burly man, as if this was a fun game of tag. 

“Missed me!....... Missed again!...... Oop! Too slow!.... Uh oh! Miss me, miss me now you gotta kiss me!” He sang while Tweedle Dee cursed and panted, clearly out of breath from the Joker’s quickness. 

Harley stood frozen in place by the side wall of the room, watching the events occur. She knew better than to get involved right now, especially since some anger that fueled his brutal beating of Jones was displaced at her. Being in the same room as him when he was in this manic, psychotic, murderous state was a completely different ball game than watching it occur on video. It was overwhelming for her. Panic coursed through her body as she watched him beat the guard while laughing, knowing he could easily turn and do the same to her. It was beyond dangerous, and intervening was not the way to go. The panic she could understand, it was normal but what she couldn’t understand was the desire she felt to  _ help him _ . It was slightly the guards' fault; if they just backed off and hadn’t grabbed at her and antognized him with their pigheaded need to try and save her, none of this would have happened. She was stuck between staying out of it for her own safety and trying to make her way to the medical box, where sedatives were kept in case she needed to calm him down in order to leave the room somewhat safely. 

Fear won over, gluing her to her spot and not even noticing that Joker made his way to her and was standing very close to her. Red streaks of blood streamed across his face, hair, and shirt. His hands were a bloody mess. Harley could see that the cuts on his knuckles had reopened, and the adhesive medical wrap that was around his right had come undone. His knuckles looked painfully swollen and appeared to be dislocated again. Anyone else would have been yowling in pain and possibly pass out from it. The Joker looked unfazed, as if he hadn’t even noticed. 

“Hmm…” The Joker hummed low, leaning his face towards her, making her flinch slightly and causing her to meet his manic gaze. “What about you doctor? Are you gonna kiss me?” He said in a softer, more seductive voice. Harley sucked in a sharp breath as her heart pounded in her chest and realized that as fucked as it was…. yes, she did want to kiss him. The unhinged, glossy look in his eyes did not deter her, nor did the blood and violence that she just unleashed. No, if anything, it made him more magnetic, and that terrified her. 

The Joker wasn’t sure if his mind playing tricks on him given his heightened mental state or if the spark he saw in her eye was an actual response to his question. Either way, he wasn’t able to find out since a sharp jolt to his side caused him to jump back from the wide, eyed blonde. The electricity from the gun should’ve fried his nerves, dropping him to the floor, but he was well acquainted with high voltage instruments designed to impair him. 

_ Ohh you're gonna have to do better than tha,  _ he rubbed where the prongs had met his skin, trying to sooth the slight sting that developed. 

“Bad idea buddy.” Joker seething, narrowing his eyes at Tweedle Dee and slowly walking towards him. 

Before he could reach the overly muscular guard to rip out his throat with his teeth, something jumped on the guard’s back, stabbing him with what looked like a filed down plastic pen several times in the chest and neck. 

Harley let out a shocked gasp and moved away from her position towards the back of the room, wanting to distance herself from whoever just killed the guard. Her mind was racing while her heart pounded. She was trapped in a room with two criminals with a murderous streak a mile long. Even Joker was a little surprised by this, his eyebrows shot up to his hair. The guard gurgled as his heart gave its final beats, spraying blood all over the floor, his body going limp. The pale, bald being let the body hit the floor unceremoniously. The tally mark scars that covered the pale being was a dead give away to who he was. 

“Zsasz,” Joker said with a nod, “Didn’t know you were here.” He said in a tone that was half bored.

“Joker!” Zsasz said, flashing him a smile while cutting another tally mark into his skin, “They had me locked up in a different wing, but I got out. I thought you’d escape by now.” His voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. 

The Joker didn’t really mind Victor Zsasz. Unlike his other “business associates,” such as Penguin or Riddler or even Crane, Zsasz never tried to step on his grounds like the others did. The Joker didn’t particularly like him or do business with him however. Zsasz was the mob’s attack dog, killing anyone his bosses saw as a rival, and although they tried siccing him on the Joker, he was unsuccessful in his mission. The Joker would’ve been more tolerant of the psychopath if he wasn’t so easily controlled by the mob, signifying that he had no real drive, no real plan. Occasionally he would murder an unsuspecting victim here or there, but Batman would always step in and easily apprehend the scared murderer before the body count go too high.

The Joker shrugged his shoulders at Zsasz comment, not really answering him, hoping he’d get the memo that he wasn’t in the mood and just leave. But Zsasz didn’t move, just kept staring expectactedly at Joker like a puppy waiting to be ordered to do a trick. 

_ So submissive. BORING.  _ Joker thought to himself. 

“So I take it this was you,” Joker said, waving a bloody, bruised hand towards the room and towards the door to where the red light and alarm still blared. 

Zsasz let out a high pitched laugh, “Yeah. I- oh! Hellooo, Who do we have here?” Zsasz stepped to the side to look around the Joker where Harley had moved to, hoping to hide. She froze like a deer caught in headlights at the look Zsasz was giving her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the support!!! I'm a early riser (also my dog, aptly named Harley tends to wake me up at the crack of dawn) and finished up this story but I won't upload it all cause I make little edits here and there. I might add another chapter later this week so stay tuned!
> 
> Comments, advice, etc always appreciated!
> 
> Happy holidays as well!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers!! Quick note, Zsasz in this story is inspired by his portrayal in Arkham Asylum and Gotham. Also I think there's only like 2 more chapters to this story. This chapter is quick so I might upload the next one later today after work and some minor edits!
> 
> Enjoy!

_ Fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck…  _ She thought to herself anxiety built up inside of her. Harley knew about Zsasz --she had read his files a while ago and watched the news whenever one of his victims were found but she never had him as a patient. He wasn’t as bad as The Joker if she was being honest, but he was still bad. The hitman stuff didn’t scare her as much as his penchant for killing young blonde women did. Her psychoanalytic mind told her that he had some deep rooted mommy issues that his current psychiatrist failed to address given the way he was lashing out and escaped his confines so easily.  _ Idiot _ . 

Harley was somewhat able to handle Joker when he was in one of his moods but she didn’t stand a chance with both of them together. Her only hope was reading the medical box on the other side of the wall where syringes full of sedatives were kept in case patients became violent during a session. But there were two notoriously brutal killers in her path, one of which was paying  _ waaay _ too much attention to her in a manner that made her skin crawl.  _ FUCK!  _

Her body positioned itself in a defensive stance, ready to fight if she had to. Judging by the wicked, bloodlust gleam in Zsasz’s eyes, she was going to have to.

“Who’s your friend, Joker?” Zsasz asked, trying to step around The Joker, who instinctively, stepped in front of Zsasz, blocking him from the young doctor. The move didn’t go unnoticed by Harely, who now stared at the Joker’s back both curiously and thankful. 

“Listen, I’m a bit busy here. Why don’t you go run off somewhere else.” Joker said in a voice that made his suggestion more like a command. Zsasz was either an idiot or too consumed by his own bloodlust to pick up on the Joker’s tone because he outright ignored the green haired criminal and tried stepping around him again. A low growl vibrated from the Joker’s throat, clearly agitated at Zsasz ignorance. 

_ Stop protecting her! Let him kill her already! It’s his job! She’s insignificant! _ boomed the murderous voices in his head. 

Another low growl rumbled from the back of Joker’s throat, silencing the voices and their suggestions. The thought of her dead was something he did not like, which was foregin to him. It caused a hollow feeling to nestle in his chest. He couldn’t understand it. Sure, he might have been slightly attracted to her in a way that he had long forgotten was possible and sure, she provided him with some entertainment but that was only because he wanted to mess with her (even though she would sometimes turn the tables on him). He couldn’t care less about 99% of the people he encountered, especially the psychiatrists who tried to “fix” him. Hadn’t been any other psychiatrist, Joker would’ve gladly let Zsasz toy with them --they weren’t worth his time. But when it came to  _ her _ , the thought of her death, especially at the hands of a sadist like Zsasz filled him with anger and….dread. 

Zsasz stepped forward again, trying to go around the green haired man. Joker flattened his hand on the short psychopath’s shoulder and pushed him back, sending shockwaves of pain from his knuckles to his wrist. He suppressed a grimace while Zsasz tripped over his feet a little.  “C’mon J!” Zsasz said annoyed, in a whiny, raspy voice that irked the Joker, “We can do it together! Wouldn’t that be  _ fun _ ?!” 

Joker bristed at the nickname when it left Zsasz pale, pink lips. He did nott like the scared man calling him that. They weren't equals. They weren’t friends. Not many people even dared to call him anything other than ‘Joker’ or ‘Mr. J’ fearing that it would cause the green hair killer to get a little ticked off at their ploy to appeal to his better nature for their own reasons. Still, he let a small number of people get away with it.

The Joker turned on his heels to look at the blonde doctor who was trying to hide by the wall behind him, making it look like he was considering Zsasz suggestion, just to buy some time. His body was still buzzing with euphoria from attacking the guards and toying with Zsasz would allow him to continue to ride the high. 

Joker heard Harely’s breathing hitch, and then picked up in short gasps while her eyes went wide as panic started to fill her. Her sturdy defensive stance told him that she was prepared to fight if she needed to but the Joker knew she would not last long against either of them. Still, he was impressed that she would be ready to fight her way out and the stance she took was so balanced that it made him think she had training in some sort of combative art. 

_ Interesting _ . A _ nother layer to you, huh Harley?  _ He wondered what she would be like in a fight, if she was more of a scrappy, scratch, punch, and claw your way out of a girl, or more tactical reserved. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to find out, at least not with Zsasz in the room. No. He’d find out another time, just for himself. 

“Hmmmm….” The Joker hummed, staring at her mischievously, “Well…. You see….”

A change flashed in her eyes, causing him to halt his taunting.

Fear. Pure, heart stopping, blood curdling  _ fear. _ He noticed true fear in her eyes, making them go wider and become more eletectic the longer he stared at her. But it did nothing for him; it didn’t consume him, it didn’t drive his need to act in violence like it normally would have. The desire to exploit this weakness, to use it against her, wasn’t there like it was with the two guards. It wasn’t sweet like when he terrorized Gotham’s citizens, wreaking havoc by killing and robbing them. 

No. The fear he sensed at her made his heart drop and sent a cold sensation through his veins. And the more he watched her, the more it spread, eating away at him. He wanted it to stop--wanted her to stop, and that meant taking away her fear.

“You see Zsazsy boy, sharing really isn’t my strong suit,” said Joker, turning back Zsasz, in a voice that sounded playful but Harley could hear the darker undertones his message was sending. Especially since she knew it was related to her and his now apparent possessive nature regarding her. “So how about you go, mmkay?” 

Harley started the Joker in disbelief. The look he had given her before sent chills down her spine. Terror gripped her as his eyes darkened and a wolf-like smile spread across his lips, making her think that he agreed with Zsasz and do with her as they see fit. It was a look she didn’t expect he’d give her, other people yes, but not her. Not after she’d apologized to him and tried to help him with the guards. Clearly she meant nothing to him ---just another plaything for him to occupy his time with while planning his escape and to do away with when the time came. 

The thought of him doing that left her feeling…. shattered. 

But as her body prepared for an attack, Joker turned around and all but told the Zsasz to fuck off, causing her to let out a breath of relief. Something told her not to let her guards down however. After all, she was still in a room with two very capable killers and she wasn’t so sure that the anger The Joker felt towards her had depleted when he took it out on the guards. A small voice told her not to trust him; he was manipulative, and how he made her afraid (even though he wasn’t going to harm her) did not sit well with her. It was as if the line of trust they built from the first time he attacked her had frayed. She did not trust him as much anymore. 

Zsasz did not listen to Joker’s subtle warning. Instead, he did the opposite. An animalistic yell escaped his lip as he rammed his shoulder into the Joker, causing him to stumble to the ground. Zsasz crouched by Joker and slashed at him with the sharpened plastic pen, cutting his exposed arms and shirt. The plastic stung as it tore through his skin, making blood seep out. The blades came down near his face but Joker turned at the last second, avoiding the jagged edge but nicked part of his eyebrow and forehead, spilling blood down his face and into his eye. 

He let out a groan of annoyance rather than pain.  _ Seriously? Now I’m pissed. _

While Joker was occupied with rubbing the blood out of his eyes and getting up from the floor, Zsasz rushed over the pretty blonde doctor while giggling maniacally. 

“He he he... So Joker’s got a little pet. How cute!” Zsasz teased, stopping in front of Harley. “You _are_ _cute_. Let’s see if your insides are just as cute as the outside.” 

The scared man let out a delirious laugh while lunging at her to grab her with his hand. Harley’s defensive training allowed her to react quickly, pushing his hand away before it grabbed her and punched him across the face with the other. 

_ OW! _ She let out a pained hiss and shook her hand. 

The punch stunned Zsasz for a second but he quickly recovered, shoving her hard against the wall and pinning his body against hers. Harley tried fighting against him but he wouldn’t budge. 

Zsasz giggled again,“You got some spunk! No one fights back!” He raised the makeshift knife to her neck and pressed down hard, instantly stopping her movement. The jagged edge of the plastic bit and tore her skin, releasing a slow stream of slow as he dragged it slowly across her neck. Zsasz eyes were glued to the bright red blood slowly painting her skin, filling him with sadistic pleasure. Harley hissed at the stinging while her heart pounded, transporting adrenaline through her veins. She saw his dark eyes glaze over, fixated on the blood slowly trickling out of her neck while panting. 

_Ok you sadistic fuck_. She slowly raised her knee to try and knew him in the groin but before she could connect it, a flash of green, red, and white went before her eyes, and the sadistic killer was off of her. The lack of the additional weight allowed oxygen to reach her lungs, helping her think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild cliff hanger eh? As always edits/comments are greatly appreciated. Especially when it comes to dialogue and conveying emotions through gestures and expression rather than straight up saying it. Ya girl struggles on that end.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating when I said would!!! 
> 
> Enjoy :)

Joker kicked Zsasz a few times in the ribs while Zsasz slashed at his legs --the makeshift knife glued to his hand. 

Harley’s eyes immediately went to the sedation box that was near the wall a few feet from the two killers when she realized the two criminals were preoccupied with fighting each other rather than her. Without hesitation, she ran towards the box. Her hands shook as she opened the box, taking out the syringes. She heard the Joker laugh a high, semi-giddy laugh and turned to see Zsasz sitting on his chest, pinning him to the ground. His eyes met hers for a split second.

“Hee hee… At least buy me a drink first Zsasz.” The clown giggled, antagonizing and distracting the serial killer when he noticed Harley go to the sedition box.

Harley’s brain was working on overdrive, making her a little slow to react to the window of opportunity the Joker was giving her. Zsasz punched the Joker, telling him to  _ shut up  _ and that he’d cut him up along with his precious little doctor. 

“Anytime now doc,” Joker said with a slight growl, trying to block Zsasz from cutting his face again, and wanting her to hurry up and shove the needle in the neck of Zsasz. “HARLEY!” He yelled when she still didn’t move, snapping out of her stupor and causing her to run over to when he was. 

With expert precision, Harley drove the needle into the pale, scared neck of Zsasz and pushed down on plunger, injecting him with a high dose of sedatives. 

Zsasz growled at the stinging prick he felt, but his wrath was short lived. In a manner of seconds, the drug took effect causing Zsasz to slump forward, practically lying on top of the Joker. Joker ungraciously rolled him off, popped up to his feet, and gave Zsasz a few good extra kicks.  _ Fucker. _

His hands throbbed painfully, shaking slightly as the adrenaline in his veins diminished and was replaced with jolts of pain. The cuts he sustained stung, and blood kept going in his eye but he could care less --he had more pressing issues to address.

The Joker turned to face his doctor and what he saw made his blood run cold. She had pressed herself against the wall, as if it would swallow her, while her entire body shook. The fear rolling off her body should've made him buzz with joy, he should’ve been _elated_ that he finally reminded her who he was and what he was capable of. Instead, he felt none of that. Her disheveled state did nothing for him either. Her loose messy hair, rumpled clothes, and smudged makeup should’ve made him laugh. _Perfect little doctor’s costume ruined!_

But it did not amuse him; it made him feel hollow, made his skin prickly and tingly in a bad way. Not even the blood on her neck caused a warm feeling to spread in his body like it would’ve if it had been anyone else, or if he had done it under more favorable circumstances. 

Her bright blue eyes shined clearly despite the blaring red lights that still filled the room. They always drew him with their mischievous gleam when he’d press all the right buttons so Harley would come out to play, completely captivating him. He saw none of that now. Harley started at him with a look that made his chest hurt and scratchy. He didn’t like that look, nor the way it made him feel. Her eyes reminded him of a caged animal and the somewhat dazed look made it seem as if she did not recognize him. 

He took tentative steps towards her, the softer voice in his head yelling  _ CAUTION! CAUTION!  _

And for once, he was going to listen. As he got closer, Harley’s eyes narrowed at him, her gaze hardened while her body became tense, as if she was getting ready to run or fight. He stopped again, taken aback at the way she looked at him understanding what was happening. 

_ She thinks I’m going to hurt her. _

It was a strange thought, and shocked him because it really drove the point that  _ he did not  _ want to hurt her. Not when she was like this. Not with the way she was making him feel. He wanted her to stop looking at him like, making him  _ feel  _ like that. He wanted her to look at him with recognition, with playful, and flirty eyes. Hell, he'd even take the leveling gaze she sometimes gave him when he pushed her button in the wrong way. He wanted her to make his heart pound painfully in his chest and swell when she would smile or laugh. He wanted her to make blood rush all over his body and send his nerves into overdrive. He wanted  _ his  _ Harley back. 

Harley stared at the bloody figure as it walked towards her and stopped after taking a few long strides so that he was about arms length away. She knew it was the Joker and not Zsasz, but her mind was scattered with fear and anger. She was angry at herself for becoming a victim and angry for stupidly trusting The Joker not to harm her but even if he hadn’t attacked her, and protected her to some extent, he did hurt her with all his little threats and glaces. She would not let him hurt her like that again, even if that meant giving over to the part of her that she did not like --the terrified, goody two shoes girl who was scared of the big bad wolf and was stupid enough to think she could help the Joker. 

Those who talked behind her back, calling her a  _ dumb blonde _ or some other colorffuls names involving her using her femanine assets to excel academically and rise through the ranks of her profession, crowded her mind, saying that they’d been right along. Part of her screamed that she was being irrational, that the green haired sociopath hadn’t hurt her before so why would he now. But she ignored that voice; too terrified and emotionally drained with what had occurred from the moment she sat down in the room to think clearly. Her body was tense but she was prepared to fight him if she had to. 

Very, very, slowly, Joker closed the distance between them, keeping enough space between them that she could run but was close enough to hear her ragged inhales. 

_ Easy  _ said the calm voice in his head. It was louder than all the others that shouted in his head. He was  _ really trying _ to listen. It was hard for him to act in such a cautious manner as to not frighten her even more. His body never moved slowly; always twitching or moving with never-ending energy. And yet, here he was, trying to slowly raise his hand to wipe off the blood on her neck. 

_ Easy…..easy…. _

A small, uncontrolled whimper escaped her lips and she saw his bloody, purplish-blue hand reach out towards her neck. Her eyes squeezed shut and her breathing quickened as she prepared for him to wrap his hand around her throat, and squeeze the life out of her.

The whimper instantly stilled his hand and made his heart drop. Every muscle in his body seized, and a cold sensation shot down his spine. 

_ Nononononono NO!  _ His thoughts were panicked.  _ Fuck, fuck, FUCK!  _

_ Slower. Go slower. Bring her back.  _ Said the soft voice in his head. 

The Joker took in a breath and lowered his hand to his side. Using his softest, quietest voice, he whispered her name, “Harley. C’mon, doc. It’s  _ me _ . C’mon, look at me.” 

The softness and patience in voice surprised them both. It slowed Harley’s panicked mind, allowing her to think again. 

_ You’re okay. You’re okay,  _ she thought, sucking in a breath to calm her nerves even more. She closed her eyes and took in another breath, slowing her heart and mind even more. Slowly, she was feeling more in control. 

The close proximity of the Joker to her allowed her to see him more clearly and what she saw twisted her heart a little. A jagged gash an inch above his eyebrow coated the left side of his face in blood, and the white Arkham issued shirt he had on was stained with blood. Her eyes traveled to his arms, where several defensive cuts were seen but not as deep as the one on his face. A shocked gasp escaped her at the sight of his hands. If they were bad before, they were ten times worse now. The stitches had been torn, leaving the skin red and angry looking, and the makeshift cast that covered his right hand was torn in places, and the medical tape that had previously immobilized his two fingers were gone. She could see one of the knuckles had needed to be popped back into place. Both hands were trembling and yet, he did not seem to feel any of the pain. He just kept staring at her with the soft expression she had ever seen him use. It was such a contrast from the angry, murderous, and manic look that he had since he looked up at from his seat that it left her stunned.

“C’mon Harley. Say something!” He said more urgently. “ _ Please! _ ” The whispered ‘please’ sent her reeling, pulling her out of her stupor. 

“J?” She asked, voice cracking slightly. 

The Joker let out a breath as his heart raced at her saying his name. Her eyes were more focused but had shadows of anger which was fine by him; he rather have the angry look than the one she gave before. An overpowering urge to pull her into him spread through him but something told him that wasn’t the best move just yet. Although he was confused with these feelings, he was rolling with the punches for now and would deal with what the fuck was happening to him later. 

Instead of crushing her against him, he raised a hand, ignoring the way it shook with pain, and touched her neck once again. 

He stopped before he could rest his palm against her neck. “I won't hurt you,” he whispered. 

The conviction in his voice shocked him a little, surprising him that he really meant it. Harely stared at his soft, mossy green eyes, unsure of what to make of him anymore. He was so murderous before but right now, no trace of that remained. The intensity of his stare and the steadiness of his voice made her really want to believe that he would hurt her, but a small tingle on the back of her neck told her to be weary. His mercurial moods didn’t really give him the best track record but for right now, she would try to believe him. She was too emotionally drained to figure him out right now, so she nodded.

With the nod, Joker very slowly placed the palm of his hand on her neck and wrapped his fingers gently around it. Ignoring the jolts of pain that flew from his fingers and knuckles at the flexion, he tilted her neck to the side a little, examining the cut Zsasz had given her. Relief washed over him when he saw it wasn’t deep and would not require stitches. He absent mindedly stroked his thumb against the semi-dried blood that had stained her skin, trying to remove traces of it from her pretty pale skin and also enjoying the warmth of her skin against his hand. Her pulse jumped at his touch and the stroking made her skin hot as blood rushed to where he was touching her. The intimate touch was something she didn’t know he was capable of it. 

As if acting on its own accord, her hand reached out to wipe some of the blood from under his eye. The touch of her hand against his face caused him to flinch a little, surprised at the warmth and softness of her hand. He quickly recovered and leaned slightly into her touch, closing his eyes and letting out a small groan. It felt good.  _ Really good _ . He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him like that and he enjoyed it. He didn’t want it to stop. It sent warmth throughout his body and quieted his mind.

Harley’s heart jumped and the small groan he gave when she touched him, making blood rush all over her body and making her feel warm. Before she even realized it, her other hand wrapped itself on the hem of his bloody and torn shirt and pulled him closer to her so meere inches separated them. She let out a soft breath and Joker snapped his eyes open. A dark, heady look replaced the soft gaze that was there, making his stare hypnotic. She saw his pupils dilate the same way as when she was playfully flirting with him, and instead of waiting for him to pull away again, she wrapped her hand behind his neck, tangled her fingers in his soft hair, and pulled his head down until their lips barely touched. 

Whether it was him or her who caved first, they didn’t care because once their lips touched briefly, everything around them ceased to exist. If he thought her touch felt good, it was nothing compared to the way her lips felt against his. 

The feather-light pressure of his lips on hers stopped her heart. She could taste tiny traces of blood on his lips and felt the raised skin of the tiny scars of his bottom lip. His musky and soapy-clean scent replaced the air around her, as if nothing existed but  _ him _ . It replaced the air in her lungs, making every breath she tried to take in sting. The touch and smell sent every nerve in her body haywire, begging for him to press a little harder, for him to come  _ closer _ . She wanted  _ more _ . He was going too slow, too soft. Harley wanted the raw unrestrained energy that she had just seen him unleash, and the self control he decided to exert right now frustrated her, making her heart pound hard in anticipation. But while she wanted nothing more than to take the lead, tighten her grasp on his hair and pull hard, a voice in the back of her mind told her not to. Not yet at least. So she stayed frozen, savoring the tender feel of his lips against hers while her blood rushed.

The taste of her on his lips and the softness of it sent a lightning strike through his body, electrifying every nerve in his body, and making his heart beat so fast and then so slow, he thought he might go into cardiac arrest. His chaotic mind stopped; all the voices and screams were silent. All he could think and feel was  _ her _ . He hadn’t felt this good, this  _ alive _ in so long. She was consuming him and for the life of him, he could not give a single fuck that she was taking control over him and making act on more humanistic impulses. It was better than the drug he’d ever taken and from that brief, chaste touch, he was  _ addicted.  _

And then, before either one of them could deepen the kiss, Joker felt a very painful, electric jolt spread through his body, seizing his muscles and making his eyes roll back into his head before dropping to the ground hard. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo.... guess Harley kinda knows what she wants. 
> 
> One more chapter left ya'll!!!
> 
> Any comments/edits/suggestions let me know :)  
> Thanks for all your support and happy holidays!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter

As he fell, the warmth and lust Harley felt consumed by was stolen away, leaving her feeling cold and breathing shallow. She blinked a few times to clear her vision and mind. Once she could see clearly, a dark, towering figure appeared right in front of her. 

Batman. 

In his hand was a very high-tech looking stun gun and while Harley tried to catch her breath, she looked from the gun to the floor where Joker’s body lay. His eyes were shut but his upper body rose off the floor once, twice, and then fell back to the ground. He twitched a few times before lying still. Harley looked back at the giant bat looking hero, trying to control her anger as she pieced together why The Joker was currently unconscious. She wanted to yell at the hero, scream all kinds of profanities at him for hurting him when The Joker was clearly injured. But she was still a little high from the kiss and couldn’t think or form words coherently. 

“Are you alright, Dr. Quinzel?” asked the Batman in a deep, gruff voice. 

It took Harley’s mind a few seconds to process the question and then respond. She gave a slow nod while looking down at Joker, and then back at Batman. If she was in a clear state of mind, she would’ve loved to analyze him, to figure out who he was and what led him to dress up as a giant bat that saved the citizens of Gotham. She had some theories laying around in her mind but could never test them and right now, she could care less about that. 

Harley watched medics rush to her side, completely ignoring the unconscious and bloodied, green haired clown on the floor. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she insisted, with a bite to her voice, shoving their hands off her. “Help  _ him. _ ” She said angrily, pointing to The Joker. The medics shared a hesitant look but then began assessing his injuries.

“Did he attack you?” asked Batman through clenched teeth. Harley narrowed her eyes at his clear distaste for the clown. 

“No,” she responded in an even tone, not trying to let anger seep into her voice. “He did.” She nodded at Zsasz who was still unconscious on the floor several feet away. 

“Zsasz came in and attacked the guards. The Joker was restrained to the table but was able to break free when Zsasz cornered me and tried to cut my throat. Joker tackled him before he could go any deeper. I was able to reach the sedation box while the two fought. Zsasz had Joker pinned down, slashing at him with his makeshift knife. I was able to inject him with a sedative before he did any real damage.” Harley said, as the fog over mind cleared. Technically what she said wasn’t a lie. 

_ Little white lies and half truths Harley. That’s how you win!  _ Echoed a sing-songy voice in her head that was not her own.

“Why didn’t you sedate him as well?” asked Batman, with a voice that suggested Harely was being less than truthful. Harley narrowed her eyes slightly, not liking his tone. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the second sedative that she took from the box. 

Suppressing the surprise on her face, she responded, “I was drawing him in. He would easily over power me if I tried to do so head on. I feigned being terrified so he’d come closer --not hard to do when you have two really good motivators. I was about to use this, but then  _ you _ shocked him into next week.” 

Harley was surprised at the ability to lie like that on the spot. She’d always been a good liar but to do so this convincingly after all that happened had her feeling a little impressed with herself.

Batman stared at her for a beat. He believed her story but something in her eyes made him a little weary of her. 

_ Hmmm….  _ He made a mental note to investigate her further when he returned home.

They watched the medics place the Joker on a gurney, strap him in tightly, and wheel him out while another pair of medics came for Zsasz. 

“Thank you.” Harley said to the Batman in a half sarcastic tone. He nodded once and then disappeared. 

When he was gone, Harley let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, leaned back against the wall, and gave a tired sounding, relief filled laugh. When did she grab a second sedative? And did she really plan on using it on the Joker like she said? She replayed everything in her mind again and again, trying to figure that out. She must have grabbed it and put it in her pocket subconsciously with the intention to use it if the Joker did attack. So why hadn’t she when he got close to her? She shook her head frustrated and tired; she was too emotionally drained to think about this right now and wanted nothing more than to go home, shower, and have a drink. As she made her way out of the room, flashes of the soft look he had given her mixed with the lust filled one, making her lips tingle. Her hand touched her lips and the sedative weighed heavily in her pocket as she walked. 

Maybe she trusted him more than she thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support!!! It has been wonderful sharing this story with you all!!! 
> 
> I have two other fanfic in the works (one short and one long). Let me know if you would like to read them. Also any prompts or ideas you may have for a fanfic, I would love to hear it! 
> 
> Again I can not express how grateful I am to you all. 
> 
> Comments/edits please let me know.
> 
> Have a happy New Year and lets hope 2021 is somewhat better than 2020 :)


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